Harry Potter, Import  Exports
by soulthief2
Summary: Young Harry Potter's life was changed the night he was left on the steps of Number 4. Remarkable what a certain Englishman'sinfluence can do.
1. Chapter 1

** Well, I'm still alive, and no doubt a good number of my readers are pissed at me, if in fact I have any left at all. However! My excuses are thus: School has been extremely demanding of late, three semesters of non-stop studying,ontop of working full time and coaching two swim teams does not leave one a whole lot of time to be creative and put it down on paper (save for a 10 page historical research paper on the disappearance of the U.S.S. Cyclops during WWI). That being said, my updates are still being worked on,bit by bit, but I won't release anything until I have an update for all of my active stories, including my Naruto x WoW crossover. **

** With that, this particular piece is designed as a simple one-shot, though if enough interest is found in it, I may upgrade it to a full story. As for the content, well, let's just say it's a mix of the world of Harry Potter, and another familiar Universe involving an Englishman.**

Privet Drive seemed unusually quiet this particular night, even for a normally sleepy area of the suburbs. The area itself was completely normal, almost painfully so. Each house followed a "cookie cutter" design, looking exactly the same as its neighbor. The lawns were all perfectly trimmed, even as they began to brown for the coming winter season. Even the cars in the lots were depressingly similar, little variation in the either black or silver paint colors, and consisted of either a BMW, or a Range Rover.

However, unknown to the residents of Privet Drive, there were in fact two things that were irregular in their little world. The first was perhaps the more shocking of the two. On the front step of Number 4 was a small wicker basket, within which was a small boy, wrapped in a warm blanket, a letter tucked in its folds. Cherubic face topped by a mop of unruly black hair, there was little else interesting about him,save for his almost ethereal green eyes and an angry red scar above his right brow in the shape of a lightning bolt.

If one were sane, they would question the sanity of leaving a small child in the cool October air, even if they were wrapped as snugly as this young man was, but that is for another time.

The second irregular happening along Privet Drive was that of a man. Normally, this would cause no great fuss, as oftentimes residents enjoyed taking nightly strolls. What made this man special was that he was running, not in the I'm-running-to-stay-in-shape fashion, but rather in the I'm-running-to-escape-some-awfully-bad-people fashion, and he was doing a smashing job of it too.

The man was tall, well-built, and even when running seemed to carry himself with a confident grace, as if he was in complete control of whatever situation he found himself in. His blond hair was cropped short, his eyes a glacial blue.

Dressed in a light blue polo and khaki slacks, he looked more as if he belonged at a country club rather than running through a quiet little suburb, but tonight was an unusual night in many ways.

As the man continued his run through along the street, faint voices could be heard behind him, sounding slightly out of breath, but still coming through strong. The language was rapid-fire, carrying with it a strong intonation. An educated individual would recognize the language as Korean.

Thankfully, the man _was_ educated, in a number of ways, and knew he had to find cover soon. If he could find a proper distraction,perhaps he could even turn the tide of this hunt.

It was at that moment that he spied the little bundle on the porch of Number 4. It wasn't as wonderful a distraction as a squad of Royal Marines, but it would do nicely. A small smirk formed on his lips.

The two Korean men came to a stop, their chests heaving from their extended run,both of them more than a little frustrated at the moment.

They had been chasing their quarry for nearly 20 minutes now,and for the first time he seemed to have eluded them. The one on the right, tall, even by European standards, cursed quietly. They quickly fanned out, trying to see if their prey was hiding somewhere.

A quick exclamation from his partner drew the larger one's attention. Looking back, he saw that the other man had found something on a porch. Making his way over, he kept a steady eye out for any trouble. Their prey had a reputation as being as slippery as an eel and nearly impossible to catch, while at the same time quite merciless in his dealings.

As the larger man neared his partner, he saw what had drawn the attention of his partner, an infant, swaddled in a blanket,with a letter written on some strange paper tucked inside. He smirked, the bastard English could state they were civilized and cultured, but they were the ones who left infants on doorsteps.

He snapped his eyes towards the hedge at the right. He reached inside his jacket, he thought he had heard something...

A dark blur erupted from the hedge, latching onto the wrist that was just starting to emerge from the jacket. With a quick twist, the man was disarmed, his pistol clattering to the concrete with more noise than the Englishman had hoped for. Continuing the twisting motion, he brought his forearm down on the elbow joint, snapping it. Just as the Korean opened his mouth to cry out in pain, the Englishman lashed out with his fist, knuckles extended, striking the Korean in the throat and collapsing his windpipe. The man went down instantly.

The Englishman turned,only to catch a punch across the jaw from the smaller man,but it barely fazed him. Moving forward, he blocked a snap kick aimed at his groin, catching the offending limb and twisting it. The move threw the small man to the ground, where his head hit the porch step in a spray of blood, knocking him out cold.

Quickly, the Englishman took the Korean's shoes off and removed the laces, tying the Korean's hands behind his back, then systematically breaking all of his fingers. A quick search of his person found a pistol in a shoulder holster,with two spare magazines, a small knife hidden at the small of his back, and a pill disguised as a tooth.

His search complete, the Englishman pulled a cellphone from his pocket and quickly dialed a number he had long since memorized. A single ring went through before he spoke.

"It's me." His voice was a solid baritone. "I had a few guests join me." He paused for a minute, before speaking again.

"Understood. One is terminated, the other is alive." A small cry drew his attention back to the distraction he had used. The boy stared at him, a few drops of the Korean's blood on his face.

In the future, the Englishman would claim that he had no idea why he opened the letter that was in the basket, but he did it anyways. A quick scan of its contents, and his eyes widened fractionally.

"Put Mum on the phone." The term for his superior was disrespectful at the least, and insubordinate, but he was the only one who could get away with it. Possibly because he was the best she had. A female voice in his speaker brought his attention back to his phone.

"Ma'am, there's been a bit of a situation."

15 minutes later, two black Range Rovers pulled up, as well as a non-descript van. The doors of the SUV's were opening even before they came to a complete stop,disgorging a number of men and women, all clutching MP5's. They circled around the area, sharp eyes scanning for any trouble, before one of them, a black man dressed impeccably in a pinstriped suit, spoke softly into his wrist.

A middle-aged woman stepped from the second Range Rover, flanked by two of the guards who had stayed behind. The back of the van opened as well, and two men in clean suits hopped out, carting a gurney between them.

As the men with the gurney made their way to the Koreans, the woman went straight for the Englishman. "You're beginning to slip, 007; you actually left one alive this time." Her voice was lilting, with an underlying strength behind it.

"Apologies ma'am, I won't let it happen again." The Englishman's cheek earned him a glare,but the woman had far too much on her plate for her to address it now. "Show me what you've found."

The Englishman handed over the letter that had come with the boy. The woman took much more time with the document than he had, as if to glean every bit of information she could out of it, before handing it to one of her guards. "Take the boy. If his situation is truly as the letter states, then perhaps we can get some use out of him."

The Englishman nodded, and picked the boy up, basket and all. As he slid into the back seat of one of the Range Rovers, his eyes caught those of the young boy. Emerald eyes stared unblinking into his, not a single speck of fear or trauma in them. 007's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile.

As the convoy left the area, not a single trace of its existence remaining, 007, also known as James Bond, stated softly to the boy, "Welcome Harry Potter, to MI-6."


	2. Chapter 2

**So I got a few good reviews, with people saying they would like for the story to continue, so I will see about working on it some more to get my creative juices going enough so I can get more work done on my main stories. Anyways, on with the story.**

_Moscow, Russia, February 12th – 22:15_

The air this night was bitterly cold, the older gentleman observed, as he made his way down the street towards a tall building, some architect's perverse design of glass and steel. The pitch black night was punctuated by the softly falling snow and the occasional pools of light given off by the lamps overhead.

He shifted his heavy coat, attempting to pull it closer towards his body. His breath frosted in front of him as he hurried towards the front door, swiping a card quickly through a slot to the right of the portal, before pulling it open and stepping in.

Shivering a bit at the dramatic climb in temperature, the man made his way towards the elevators back behind the security desk.

After a minute and a half ride through depressingly clichéd elevator music, a soft ping told him he had arrived at his destination.

The double doors of the elevator opened up to reveal a massive office, resplendent in glass and steel, one whole wall made completely transparent to provide a view of the square below. The inside of the office was dark, and were the man of a paranoid nature, it may have made him nervous, but alas, he wasn't.

Removing his overcoat and scarf, he through them over the back of one of the guest chairs across from his desk, revealing a dark blue suit with a bright red tie. With a sigh, he he sat down in his comfortable chair and booted up his computer.

"Good evening Lionel."

The man started, hand immediately going towards the pistol he kept stored underneath his desk.

"Who's there?"

A lamp clicked on, near where his visitor's lounge was. The light revealed a boy, with short black hair, dressed in black slacks and pullover. He appeared completely relaxed, right leg resting on left.

The man relaxed a fraction, but didn't remove his hand from his gun.

"You know Lionel, M doesn't mind you making money on the side, she just prefers you not doing it by selling secrets."

The man, Lionel, smirked. "So, the cat's out of the bag, is it? I expected her to send someone a bit more...mature. Perhaps 007 himself."

The boy smiled a soft smile, but there was no warmth behind it. "She didn't think this important enough to draw him away from his current assignment. She decided I would be sufficient for the task."

Lionel drew the gun from its resting place, barrel pointing at the boy. "You may be her pet project, but you still have a lot to learn in how the world works."

The boy didn't appear to be concerned at all. If anything his smile widened even more.

"Come Lionel. Do you take me for a simpleton? Have you not noticed that your gun feels a little light?"

Indeed, now that the boy mentioned it, it did feel strangely light. He cursed softly, but didn't bother removing the gun.

"So it seems as if you have some skill. Tell me, it takes two kills to earn double-o status. I can't imagine your first was very easy."

The boy's eyes zoned out for a moment, remembering what had happened only two days ago:

_ he sat calmly across from a man in an expensive Italian suit. Between them sat a tea set, silver polished to a high sheen. The older male was tall and gangly, with a thin neck, topped by a narrow head and pencil mustache, gray eyes shadowed by narrow spectacles. His hair was mostly gray, and disappearing, save for a narrow band of black just above his over large ears._

_ "**What can I do for you, signeur?"** The boy narrowed his eyes a fraction at the blatant rudeness the man showed him by speaking in French._

"_**I am here to make an inquiry on a certain account."** The response was in flawless French, and served its purpose by throwing the older man off balance. _

_It didn't throw him off for very long, and he was able to compose himself quickly enough that anyone who wasn't trained would have missed it. **"Of course. May I request the account number and password?"**_

_The boy provided the requested information, and the man input the information into the computer. The results he got back caused his already pale pallor to become even more so. Sweat began to bead at his brow._

_Clearing his throat a little, the man fixed his attention towards the boy **"Perhaps there is a mistake, signeur, but this account appears to have been closed."**_

_The boy simply smiled, his green eyes flashing dangerously, as if he were a predator stalking its next meal. The man began to sweat even more, even going so far as to loosen his tie and undo the top button of his shirt._

"_**I assure you sir, there is nothing wrong with the account.**" _

_The man knew something was wrong. It first started as a pain in his stomach, slowly gaining in scale until it felt as if he were being stabbed. It then spread to his extremities, and his body seemed to be melting, as it began to sweat overtime, attempting to draw the poison out._

_But it was to no avail, his breathing grew short and laboured, his vision beginning to go black. He jumped to his feet, his overstuffed chair falling on its side, as his legs collapsed and he fell over onto his desk, foaming at the mouth, flicked with spots of blood._

Present day:

focusing back to the task at hand, the boy simply stared at Lionel, not saying a word.

Lionel sighed again. "Oh well, you know what they say, the second one is ...pfft"

The silenced round threw his head back, over the edge of his chair, mouth still wide open.

Holstering his weapon, the boy's mouth twitched at the corners. "Yes. Considerably."

Drawing out a phone, he flipped it open and hit the speed dial.

"It's done."

"Understood. Make your way to Kiev, where a plane will be waiting for you. I want to be debriefed in the next 10 hours."

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, and congratulations, 008."

Snapping the phone closed, he quickly removed any trace of his presence before leaving the building and disappearing into the frigid night air.

_London, England _ _July 31st, 0900 hours_

The MI-6 building was busy as usual, various aides and clerks bustling about, as if their work was the most important thing going on. Which, as it was the MI-6, was entirely possible.

Still, this activity was largely ignored by a black-haired boy as he sat with his arms crossed in one of the many briefing rooms. The rooms were completely state-of-the-art, featuring a tabletop pc, as well as numerous touch screens mounted on the walls, all of which were connected to the tabletop.

The reason for 008's presence this morning was currently resting on the tabletop, aged parchment a stark contrast to the advanced tech.

"This presents us with a rare opportunity. Her Majesty has long been trying to get an unaltered view of what is happening in the Magical world, but the Prime Minister has been flagging in his reports, and the few that do come in are disjointed and vague at best."

M turned her attention towards 008. "Your assignment will be thus: to observe and record the status of the Magical world by fitting in as a student at Hogwarts. You are not to attract attention to yourself needlessly, and make weekly reports. Based off of the information you provide, the Crown will decide what to do."

008 nodded his understanding, before standing and heading towards the door.

"Potter." his hand paused at the switch. Turning his head, he saw a concerned look on M's normally stoic face. "Be careful. There will be no backup if trouble comes up."

Harry Potter didn't respond, but simply turned around and left the room.


End file.
